Beyond Lines of Doubt
by DearSweetPapercut
Summary: "It's a mistake to confuse pity with love." - Stanley Kubrick


Finals are eating me up but I took the day off and thought I'd do some writing! I have most certainly missed Sandle- so I hope you enjoy this- please review.

**Beyond Lines of Doubt **

"**It's a mistake to confuse pity with love."**

**- Stanley Kubrick **

The smell of dusk was almost as intoxicating at the bottle of whiskey he usually kept stored in the cupboard by the kitchen sink. It was sitting by his side like a companion waiting to become a lover or a lost hope. The cigarette between his fingers slowly burning out as his vision seemed to turn into a haze as the day light escape the seams of the city as it sprawled lazily across the desert. She would call in a few moments. He was almost certain of it. It was a routine they never spoke of beyond the confines of the darkness that sheltered their secrets.

Like rainfall in April the sound of the phone echoing through his house was little comfort as he sat staring at the way the night seemed to embrace everything surrounding him. With a sigh he glanced at the phone cradled in his hand wondering when they would move past this. At what stage would they be able to look each other in the eye and say the things that seemed to come so easily over crackling lines in whiskey tongues?

"Greg" The voice on the other side was not what he had expected. "Greg, its Brass"

"What can I do for you?" Greg asked taking a drag from his cigarette a frown shadowing his features as he pulled himself to his feet.

"It's Sara... she was picked up at some bar..." He paused, letting out a small growl of an emotion he couldn't place. "Disturbing the peace... She's been asking for you"

"Sure" The word seemed to appear as a natural instinct but as he placed the phone back in the charger he wondered where they had gone wrong. At some point they had become the people they had hoped they wouldn't be. They had become the very people their parents had been; looking for fixes at the bottom of bottles, in the arms of strangers or in the arms of someone they should have let go a long time ago.

As he sat letting traffic surrounding him it occurred to him that after all of these years he had finally admitted that he was drowning. That every moment, every day that passed was wearing on his soul as it did all it could to bend and not break. He would wake feeling just slightly more hollow the day that followed.

And she was just the same.

She was the feeling he got at the bottom of the glass. She was the sound of silence in the mornings. She was the nights spent alone.

And as he stood watching her through the glass as she sat her head in her heads he knew that she felt just the same. She felt all of that and more.

"Sara" Her name was like sandpaper on his tongue escaping into the cold air of the waiting room.

"Don't" She ran her tongue over her lips, look at him in a way that could only be described as despair. "Don't use that tone"

"What tone?" Greg shrugged his shoulders taking a step towards her but she refused to move from the spot she had decided to occupy.

"That one..." Sara took a deep breath running her fingers through her hair. "Don't feel sorry for me"

"Sara, I'm just here to pick you up, Brass said you were asking for me, just put on your coat and we can go" He explained calmly hoping it would help the situation that had developed in a matter of moments.

"You're not going to ask me why?" She said in a small voice. It was almost as if those words didn't belong to her.

"What is there to ask Sara? You miss him, you want him... You wished you'd done things differently..." He couldn't help it the tedium of their lives seemed to seep through his pores.

"You don't know anything" She smiled at him in a sad way, tugging at the edge of her shirt as she turned her attention to her feet.

"I'm sorry; I confused myself for the man who's had to listen to you crying almost every night for the past month" He rolled his eyes. He wanted to stop but for some reason all of the venom seemed to appear as he realised the way she was looking at him was indifference.

"And everyone wonders why I ended up in a bar tonight..." She gave a humourless laugh.

"What are you talking about Sara?" Greg studied her waiting for something to appear, for some form of anger directed at him... or herself.

"All of this time we've spent together..." She glanced at her finger nails before continuing. "All you've done is pity me. I can tell the difference..."

"The difference between pity and..." He could feel a strange sensation burning behind his eyes as he attempted to focus all of his attention on the women in front of him rather than the woman he had fallen in love with all of those years ago. She'd changed. They both had. But for some reason he had continued living as if they were just the same.

"Love..." Sara paused. "I can tell the difference between pity and love. You... You don't love me. You think you do... but this isn't it...you just do what do you... you save me... because you think you have to"

"No... I don't" Greg shook his head. "I could walk away, I could have walked away years ago and you know why I didn't? Because I love you..."

Sara shook her head, slinging her coat over her arm as she made her way out of the door in to the chaos of PD. Officers and detectives were all gathered in groups discussing cases and foot ball scores the noise levels hitting her more than she had expected them to. As she turned she could see Greg standing in the very spot she had left him in, a blank expression on his face as he tried figure out how they had managed to crumble.

She realised that she had to leave- that it was time to walk away from this city and admit defeat. She met Nick's eye as he stood with Finn and Moreno on the other side of the bullpen it struck her that she would miss this, she would miss all of them but in the end it was for the best.

"Sara" Greg's fingers encircled her arm forcibly turning her to face him. "Don't go"

"Greg... I'm done..." But before she had a chance to catch her breath and explain herself he had pressed his lips against hers. His fingertips traced her spine, resting on the small of her back slowly inching her body against his as the world ceased to revolve. His heart beat seemed to match hers perfectly as he surrounded her and force her to surrender her finger tips clinging to the thin material of his shirt as every part of her ached to end the agony of that moment. He tasted like... _home_.

**The End**


End file.
